


Draco Malfoy has Terrible Friends

by LakeWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Draco Malfoy is Dramatic, Draco Malfoy is a Mess, Draco Malfoy needs new friends, First Kiss, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Love Confessions, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, secret feelings, self-deprecation, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeWitch/pseuds/LakeWitch
Summary: Based onthistumblr post by clracomalfoy:drarry au in which the slytherins slip draco a 24-hour love potion so that he falls in love with harry potterand they’re all laughing watching him drink it and they watch him all day waiting for him to make a fool of himselfand he doesn’t act any different





	Draco Malfoy has Terrible Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ❤  
> That tumblr post is 5 years old, and I'm sure there've been other awesome fics inspired by it. I was just compelled to write my own version, all of a sudden, in an afternoon. So, I hope you like it ❤
> 
> Possible warnings for: foul language, and Draco being depressed/real hard on himself
> 
> Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian by [onlyreasony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyreasony/pseuds/onlyreasony) here:  
> <https://ficbook.net/readfic/8558457>

Draco just wanted to get 8th year over with. He’ll get his NEWTs, and then never have to look back. Maybe he’ll even move _away_ , he thought fondly, as he tuned out the sound of Professor Binns droning on about the vampire revolt of 1238. 

His eyes strayed to the back of Potter’s head, as it often did (though not always just the back of it). Black curls in disarray as usual, and he was leaning in towards Weasley, saying something. The two of them laughed. Must be nice to be able to laugh. Draco let out a heavy sigh. It would be good for him to get away from Potter, too. Maybe he’ll go somewhere they’ve never even heard of Harry Potter. Chile, for example. Alpacas were interesting. He could have a farm. An alpaca farm. He’d sheer them, knit their fur into scarves, sell scarves to tourists. Or something. 

If truth were told, really, Draco was having a hard time. His entire identity had been shattered from the war. He didn’t know who he even _was_ anymore. With Voldemort dead, the Death Eaters dismantled, his family broken, and his old beliefs out the window—what was left? Well, studying, he supposed. That was all he did now. That and sleep. 

Draco knew his friends were just about done with him. They wanted to be normal teenagers and have a laugh. He didn’t know how to be the person they wanted him to be. In his opinion, it was impossible. How could someone, who saw the Muggle Studies professor murdered in front of them (for example), laugh and be _normal_? 

Draco barely registered class ending, until everyone was filing out. Draco joined the crowd, like a sheep, or an _alpaca_ (he guessed—he didn’t know much about alpacas, whether they were anything like a herd of sheep—he could look it up in the library later). 

It was lunch time. Draco ate because he had to eat, but he found no joy in it. It was a chore. 

He heard Pansy and Blaise giggling about something, but he tuned that out, like he tuned out just about everything. Except studying. Except Potter’s head (sometimes). 

And the day went on as it always did. More classes. Dinner. Library. Bed. 

There was an unusual amount of giggling at the Slytherin table during breakfast the next morning. Draco tried to ignore it, but, it sort of depressed him. He wished he could be like that, _carefree_ , but he just couldn’t. 

A few people made eye contact with him, people he wasn’t even friends with. It was very puzzling. They looked at him with goofy smiles; it was almost as if they expected something. 

Draco had double Potions that morning. He sat beside Pansy, because that was where he always sat. 

‘Don’t you want to sit with Potter?’ Pansy asked, leaning towards him and waggling her eyebrows. 

He furrowed his own eyebrows. ‘Whatever for?’ 

Pansy frowned, then seemed to think. She shrugged and then plastered a grin on her face. ‘How would you say Potter looks today?’ 

Draco didn’t trust this line of questioning. He shrugged. ‘Same as always.’ 

‘Doesn’t he look kinda, well, _hot_?’ 

Draco scowled. He resented that word, as if Potter could be the same word you ascribe to a roast, or a plate of mashed potatoes. ‘No, no I would not say that.’ 

Pansy pouted, and looked behind her at Blaise, exchanging some kind of nonverbal communication. Blaise and Pansy switched seats. 

‘How ya feeling, old boy?’ Blaise asked, laying a heavy arm across Draco’s shoulders. 

Draco promptly shrugged out from underneath. ‘I’m _fine_ , what are you two on about?’ 

‘Oh just checking in, you know, since you are our friend!’ 

‘Right, sounds perfectly _innocent_. Well, like I said, I’m fine. And I’d like to get to work on the potion now.’ 

Blaise frowned, just like Pansy had. 

The day carried on as usual after that. (Except for a few odd glances from the other Slytherins.) 

At dinner, Pansy let out a huge gasp. She covered her mouth, and looked right at Draco with wide-eyes. Then she whispered excitedly in Blaise’s ear. Blaise let out a guffaw of a laugh. Draco sighed. He felt left out, but the thing was, he could be “in”, if he’d only ... let himself? 

People were whispering to each other, grinning, like there was some secret between them all. All of a sudden. 

Draco left for the library after he finished eating. He read about alpacas, and then llamas too. Just for the fun of it. 

When he got to the 8th year common room, it seemed more crowded than usual. Pansy spotted him immediately and shoved him into the corner by the window, where they couldn’t be overheard. 

‘Draco, I have to confess something … You’re not going to like it at first, but, hear me out, please?’ She flashed him her best doe-eyed look. 

He didn’t like where this going. ‘What.’ 

She licked her lips. ‘Okay, don’t freak out … but Blaise and I might have slipped a little something in your juice this morning.’ 

‘What?!’ This was illegal. He should report her and Blaise to the Auror department. Immediately. If he didn’t strangle them. Or, he could do both. 

‘Shh, shh … It’s not a big deal … And nothing happened, right? You didn’t feel anything?’ 

Draco narrowed his eyes, and mentally reviewed his day. He couldn’t recall feeling anything out of the ordinary … ‘I guess that’s true.’ He sighed. ‘Just tell me everything, Pans.’ 

She took a deep breath. ‘It was a love potion.’ 

‘What?!’ 

“Shh! A love potion that had one of Potter’s hairs in it.’ 

‘What,’ he said again, this time through clenched teeth. He was going to have to murder her. And Blaise. He survived the war, just to be sent to Azkaban now. Oh well, one does what one must. 

Her face softened. ‘But you didn’t act any different—we thought it would be funny, something for us all to laugh about. It could’ve brought you out of your slump.’ 

‘My … _slump_?’ 

She ignored him. ‘But nothing happened, right? So Blaise and I thought the potion was faulty, or you didn’t drink enough of it … But we’d used the whole bottle, and it was from a reputable source! Kind of expensive, really. So, I thought and I thought, and then I realised it—the only explanation.’ 

Draco felt nauseous. This was not good. 

Pansy continued, her voice soft, ‘You _already_ love him. That’s it, isn’t it?’ 

Every wall Draco possessed—he was now putting them up. Bricks, and drawbridges, and metal bars. No, no, no. 

She put a hand, gently on his arm. He stared at it like it was something alien, unrecognizable. No, no, no. 

‘Draco, just one other thing … the other Slytherin’s know all about it, and, um, word travels fast?’ she said with a shrug. As if it were no big deal. As if she hadn’t just ruined his life. 

‘You are evil,’ he managed to utter, through bared teeth. 

‘Oh, come on, this is a good thing.’ 

Draco turned, ready to push past everyone and go to his room. And possibly never leave it again. Maybe he could take his NEWTs in his room, surely McGonagall would understand. 

Unfortunately he caught the exact moment that Seamus Finnegan was excitedly telling Harry Potter something. And Draco was pretty sure he knew what that something was. Great. Draco was a laughing stock. He knew he should look away from Potter’s face, because Potter laughing at him was something that he wouldn’t be able to bear. He knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Draco Malfoy in love with Harry Potter—what a joke. As if Draco thought he’d ever stand a chance … A cowardly Death Eater with the Saviour of the Wizarding World. It was pathetic. It was worse than pathetic. It was shameful. 

It was worse than he thought. Potter didn’t even react, he just looked at Draco. It was like Draco was nothing, less than nothing, the dirt he walked on sort-of-nothing. No smile, no laugh, no eyebrow-raise, no surprise, no scorn, no nothing. Draco was so inconsequential to Potter that he wasn’t even worth a reaction? No, that would be a waste of energy. _Draco_ was a waste of space. 

He stormed out, and tears were falling even before he opened his door. He shut the door behind him and locked it with every spell he knew. Then he slunk to the ground and buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t cried in a long, long while. It actually felt … a little therapeutic. If only he didn’t have to avoid human interaction for the rest of his life … 

But, Blaise and Pansy blew a hole in his door the next morning, and bodily pulled him from his room. 

‘You are not going to hide away!’ said Pansy. 

‘Time to face the music!’ said Blaise. 

This was torture. He’d almost prefer to be back in the Manor living with the Dark Lord. Almost. 

Draco had a miserable breakfast. He did not look up from his plate once, and ate as fast as he could manage. Then he got up to head to the library, since there was still plenty of time before Arithmancy. 

He was halfway there, when he was brought out of his thoughts by one word: his name. 

‘Draco,’ called Potter from a few meters away, who was clearly out of breath. 

Draco froze involuntarily. Potter had never said his given name before, had he? He couldn’t bring himself to turn around, he debated on whether he could just sprint to the library, and then hide in the stacks. 

‘Draco,’ Potter said again, closer. 

‘What?’ Draco said, finding his voice. 

Potter had to walk around Draco to face him head-on. Draco tracked the movement with his eyes. His body didn’t seem to want to move. 

Potter licked his lips. He looked like he was having difficulty looking Draco in the eye, his eyes kept darting towards the floor. 

‘Is it true?’ Potter asked, more gently than Draco would ever expect. 

‘Is what true?’ Draco asked back, because he didn’t know what else to say. He knew perfectly well what Potter was getting at, he just wanted to delay it, even if by 3 seconds. 

‘People are saying that … you might … well, love me,’ Potter said. His voice was light, but there was something underneath it, something-- 

Draco frowned. ‘What?’ He really didn’t know what to say. 

Potter licked his lips. Potter had beautiful lips. But everything about him was beautiful, and lovely, and _good_. ‘They were saying someone slipped you a love potion, and you didn’t act any differently? Because, you already … love me?’ 

Potter said the word “love” so sweetly (that was the second time now). Draco really liked the sound of it. 

Draco blinked at him. ‘It was a faulty potion. Didn’t work.’ 

Potter’s mouth looked a little wobbly. ‘ _Oh_. Right. Ugh, that makes sense.’ He let out a breathy huff of a laugh. But it conveyed awkwardness more so than humour. 

Potter’s shoulders hunched. ‘I guess I’ll see you around then.’ And then, he walked off.

Draco felt sad. And kind of stupid. He didn’t know why. He should be relieved that the man he loved thought he didn’t love him, but he felt empty and foolish for some reason. 

Draco carried on. Class was fine. Lunch was fine. Class was fine. Dinner was fine. Studying was fine. 

When he got back to the common room, his eyes were drawn to Potter. He was leaning forward, head resting on his hands, staring into the fire. Strangely, Draco’s eyes wandered past Potter, and locked with Granger, who was sending him a death-glare. Weasley, beside her, had a similar expression. Draco frowned. That seemed uncalled-for. 

Granger cornered him the next morning after breakfast, just before he could exit the Great Hall. 

‘Do all of you Gryffindors prefer to conduct your confrontations in the morning?’ Draco asked. It seemed unreasonable; most people were half-awake at this time. 

Granger just pursed her lips. ‘I don’t appreciate you playing games with Harry.’ 

‘Playing games …' Draco echoed. That didn’t make any sense. 

‘Yes,’ she said, thrusting a finger at his chest accusingly. ‘He’s very vulnerable these days. He’s been through a lot, you know? And you lot decide to play a trick on him--’ 

‘Trick on _him_?’ Draco asked, aghast. 

‘Yes! It’s not nice to make someone think you love them, then immediately take it back the next day.’ 

Draco was thoroughly confused. ‘What are you _talking_ about? The trick was on _me_. I had nothing to do with this scheme, I’m--I’m the victim!’ 

Granger scowled. ‘You hurt him.’ 

‘What?! How could I possibly—All I did was _deny_ it. What?’ 

Granger shook her head. ‘Look at him.’ 

Draco turned back to the Gryffindor table. Sure enough, Potter was swirling his food around with a fork, looking at it dejectedly. ‘Oh come on … surely it means nothing to him …' 

Granger sighed. ‘He pays more attention to you than you might think, Malfoy.’ 

Draco shook his head, as if to clear it. He wasn’t able to process whatever Granger was trying to say. ‘I’m going to the library.’ 

He couldn’t concentrate. 

And then in class, he couldn’t concentrate. Sure enough, whenever he looked over at Potter, Potter looked sad. Deflated. Dejected. It made no sense. 

Draco was getting sick of it, sick of not understanding. 

So he approached Potter in the common room after dinner. (He skipped the library—just this once). After dinner was an excellent time for confrontations. The day was nearly over, people were in their right mind ... 

Potter was in that chair again, staring into the fire. 

‘Hey,’ he said, determined. It might’ve come out a little cross-sounding. 

Potter leaned back, looked up at Draco slowly. ‘Yes?’ 

Draco threw his arms up in a gesture of: _so?_ ‘Did you _want_ me to be in love with you?’ 

A muscle in Potter’s jaw twitched. ‘Fuck off, Malfoy.’ 

‘Really, Potter, explain it to me. Why are you so mopey? Does it really have something to do with me?’ 

Potter glared. ‘I said: fuck off.’ 

‘Fine! Is this what you want to hear?! Yes, I love you. I really fucking love you, alright? And I have for _years_. So what? Is that really a big deal? I don’t think so! People love each other all the time. It doesn’t matter. It just means I have eyes, you know, and ears, and … I don’t know. Who isn’t in love with you, anyway? I’m sure there’s a whole queue of people. Ugh. Okay, I’m going to my room. I hope you’re really fucking pleased with yourself now.’ 

Potter grabbed onto Draco’s forearm before he could storm off. Draco finally looked down at Harry’s face. He … looked like he was about ready to cry. 

Potter stood up. 

Then he wrapped his arms around Draco, and … hugged him. 

It was quite startling. Quite unexpected. 

And Draco melted into it. 

Potter pulled back a little, so that they were face to face. “I love you too,’ he said softly. 

It took a moment for those words to process. ‘I beg your pardon?’ 

‘I’ve loved you for a long time too.’ 

Draco shook his head. ‘No. No you haven’t.’ 

Potter looked almost amused. ‘You saved me, in the Manor then. You’re good, and you’re brave. You’re smart, and sassy. And I like your bum.’ 

Draco was speechless. 

‘I’d like to, you know, date you. That is, if you do,’ said Potter. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. ‘If you’re having me on--’ 

And then Potter leaned forward, brought his face right up close to Draco’s, and, kissed him. Tentatively and sweetly. Those perfect lips so soft and pliant against Draco’s. 

Surely if it were a prank, Harry wouldn’t kiss Draco in front of the entire common room—could it be … real? 

The room erupted in wolf whistles and cheers. 

Harry smiled against Draco’s lips. 

It was real? 

Draco parted his lips, and Harry’s tongue flicked inside. Draco poked out his own tongue. Oh Merlin, he was touching his tongue to Harry’s tongue. Harry Potter’s wet tongue. Harry Potter’s mouth. 

‘Get a room!’ Seamus called. 

Harry pulled back. His eyes were smiling, all squinty and joyful. And he was … blushing. 

It was real. 

‘Well I never …' said Draco, surprised. He felt like he might float away. 

‘Get used to it,’ said Harry, pulling him in for another kiss. 

 

 

Mini Epilogue

 

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter graduated from Hogwarts, moved in together, and Draco regularly saw a Mind Healer for his trauma and self-esteem issues. 

On a clear spring day, after a grueling Seeker’s game, Harry asked Draco to marry him. Draco said yes. 

And they lived happily ever after ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤ Feedback is welcome


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